


After The End

by akgerhardt



Series: SFW [13]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alcohol, Comfort/Healing, Depression, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Self-Hatred, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-21 07:46:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18139394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akgerhardt/pseuds/akgerhardt
Summary: "Even the word "hopeless" has hope in it."





	After The End

_Heroic._

It fits, really. Leave it to him to take the sacrificial role from you.

The worst part? You weren’t even there. You were flying through the middle of fucking nowhere in your poofy asshole pants when Derse was encompassed by a brilliant light. It looked like a star in the distance, filling you with awe and fear. You were too late to whatever was going down.

Luckily, the others were more than willing to share their accounts of the experience. Jane said he snapped, but in a good way. She was in the middle of her villainous monologue when he interrupted. She was surprised at his resistance, but it only grew stronger the brighter and more determined he became. When she tried to stick her fork in him, reality itself seemed to shift and her tiara ceased to exist. She unlocked the cell in stunned silence, and he proceeded to take on the Condesce singlehandedly with a power level over 9000. The scuffle didn't last long, as even she was no match for his hopefield. An equally stunned Jade transported him to the Jacks upon request, then to the big bad himself. He managed to defeat him and close up the black hole before being obliviated into nothingness. If there were any Infinity Dust-esque remains to attempt revival on, they were drawn through the unknown with the hulking skeleton, never to be seen again. “Never?” you asked. “Bit of an exaggeration, don't you think?”

They were right; you were just in denial. The army didn't know the whereabouts of his ghost or if he even had one, so you internalized your grief in order to rejoin your ragtag group and claim the reward. They’re concerned about your unwavering stoicness, but you assure them that it's just how you are. Once everyone has more or less adjusted to Earth C, they form a “SBURB/SGRUB Survivors Support Group,” which you view as an excuse to be somewhat social and stay in touch. You’ve forged the strongest postgame relationships with Roxy and Dave, but only Jane can relate to your guilt and regrets. You think you both took him for granted when he was alive, but like hell are you going to pity yourself for it. You don't cry, and you don't get touchy-feely. That’s not your style. Can't have manpain if there's no valid reason for it.

You’re numb, cold. The Consort Kingdom would be a lot more enjoyable if you weren’t limited to Tavros’s company, so you opt for solitude most of the time.

You swear you've moved on, and you could build a better therapist AI than anything out there. You don't isolate yourself; you’re just too busy to trifle with bs. Your insomnia is worsening, but at least you're productive. The first time you drink, you go overboard in an attempt to feel anything or at least pass out. When you reach for a fourth bottle, he gently intervenes, entwining his fingers with yours as he lowers your hand. Great, you’re hallucinating now.

     “You've had enough.

…

     Come on, don't give me the stank eye! I'm looking out for your best interests, whether you like it or not. Your system really can't handle booze, so we've got to avoid the worst case scenario. Upsy daisy, time's a tickin’, bucko!”

He helps you to your feet, and you lean heavily on him as you make your way to the bathroom. It’s like he hits a reverse switch once he has you kneeling over the tub, and you drain yourself of the would-be alcohol poisoning in pathetic heaves. He rubs your back soothingly, and the dam breaks. You’re apologizing to and hugging your apparition as he gives you mouthwash and then guides you to bed, tucking you in like a child.

     “Shh, shh. It’s alright. You’re alright. I'm sorry for taking so long.”

“Wasn't fair; should've been me. Didn’t even-”

He hums an unknown tune as you ramble yourself to sleep, not loosening his hold.

Naturally, you wake alone. At least you don’t have a hangover.

Weeks past as you harden again, and he's there to prevent your every self-destructive endeavor. Sometimes he chastises and sometimes he comforts, but it's usually a combination of the two. He’s much more unnerving sober, as you find him an exact replica of the original.

     “Chin up, chap. There’s no need for this.”

He confiscates the cigarette you bummed, stomping it out before disposing of it in a nearby can.

     “... You know, you don't have to suffer in silence. There’s no shame in admitting you’re going through a rough spot.”

You rub your brow, sighing. He cups your cheek and strokes it with his thumb, eyes betraying the sadness behind his smile. You press into the touch, avoiding his gaze.

     “It hurts to see you like this… Especially knowing that I’m the cause.”

“I'm sorry.”

     “No, no! I just wish I knew how to make your heart whole again…”

“Dude, I was always fucked up- not sure why you stick around. Don’t you have a harp to play or some shit?”

He snort-laughs, and you almost smile.

     “There’s nothing of the sort, and you know it. I dreamt of a happily ever after, but, at the end of the day, it's all stuff and nonsense. Besides, even if I had somewhere else to be, I wouldn't feel right abandoning you in this state.”

“... So, what you're saying is that you'll never leave if I stay miserable? Sounds like a plan.”

He huffs, withdrawing his hand.

“It was a joke, I swear.”

     “Dirk, you need help.”

“Perhaps.”

     “... You’ve likely gathered this, but I'm not the “real” me. Nor am I a figment of your imagination. I'm… your personal Jakeling, splintered from the big kerplooey! I'm not going to enable harm, but I'll always be here for you, even just to shoot the breeze. All you've got to do is believe hard enough to materialize me in non-dangerous situations. Give it a try!”

“Wait, don't-”

He’s already gone. Dirk considers bumming another cig, but thinks better of it. He doesn’t want to get addicted and keep letting him down.

That night, he pulls Jake’s movie box out of his closet and rifles through it to select the shittiest-looking one. He starts up the DVD player, then waits, letting the menu loop. He’s still very much alone.

“Yo, Brain Ghost Jake. Got your favorite.”

...

     “I don’t _have_ a favorite. They’re all masterpieces; how could anyone choose?”

He jumps in an inarguably uncool manner, surprised that it worked. Jake gives him a funny look, still swinging his legs on the couch.

     “What? I promised I'd come. Let's get this horse off to the races and engage in the most tender of bro cuddles, posthaste!”

When it's apparent that Dirk is going to continue gawking, he tugs him over, hitting the play button on the remote. He wraps them in a blanket, and then Dirk’s sobbing in snively silence, clinging to him like a lifeline. Jake's decision to turn his attention from the screen is the ultimate gesture of love.

     “It’s going to be ok,” he murmurs, letting the tears rain down on him. “I chose my path, Dirk. There was nothing you could've done. All I want is for you to live your life to the fullest. Please, let yourself be happy- you deserve to be. I know it's not easy, but-”

“I should have at least tried to make things right. I hurt you, manipulated you into a relationship and then put the blame on you for not-”

     “There’s no point in determining who's at fault for what. It's over. You can't stay like this forever, man! The globe keeps spinning, seasons change, people die. Everything is impermanent.”

“... When did you become a philosopher?”

     “Oh, I dunno. Probably brushed off in your subconscious.”

He manages a laugh, pulling him closer. Jake nuzzles under his chin.

     “My point is: you’re _alive_. Life is a miraculous mess, and you've got to make the most of opportunities while they're still here. Do good, help someone, plant trees, you know? You'll feel better for it.”

He nods, blowing his nose in a clean sock from the laundry heap behind him.

     “And put your undies away, for frig’s flippin’ sake.”

“Yeah, ok.”

* * *

      "Madam, please disregard your desserts in favor of enjoying this lovely weather. Would you be so kind as to accompany me on a stroll through the park?" 

             "I'm so sorry, Ja-"

      "We've prattled on about these matters until we were blue in the face, Janey! Let bygones be bygones. What have I got to do, write positive affirmations on all of your belongings? Because I will!"

            "... I don’t deserve you," she sniffles. He tucks a lock of hair behind her ear fondly. 

      "Come now, where's that Christmas card smile I've missed? Atta girl!" 

* * *

                  "How're they doin'?"

      "Better, I think. At least, I  _hope._ Those two are so caught up in their own noggins that I can barely get a word in edgewise! They're ridonkulously stubborn..."

She grins, shaking her head. Jake #3 joins her on her bed, picking up the spare controller. 

                  "Oh, oh! Guess who I unlocked."

      "That funky turtle skeleton? ... Godspeed, you absolute gaming wiz!"

They choose Rainbow Road and proceed to die repeatedly for the sake of pretty graphics.

                   "... So, you ever gonna, like, fuse into one ultra ghost that everyone can see? It'd be fun gettin' the gang to play MP." 

      "Heck if I know. I wasn't provided with an instruction manual to navigate this malarkey."

                    "True, true. Guess we'll wait it out, huh?" 

...

      "I'll break it to them someday, if and when they can handle it. I'm still not sure whether I'm making the right decisions..."

                     "We're a fuckin' disaster, Jakeroo," she laughs. "Always have been, always will be."

      "... I can say without a doubt that if it had been you, we'd've fallen apart beyond repair immediately. You’re the glue that keeps us together." 

                     "Gimme a hug, ya goober... I'm tryin', but I ain't  _that_ good."

      "You'd better watch that self-esteem, missy, lest you require a motivational speech! So help me, I will give you the peppiest of talks when you least expect it."

                     "Nooooooo."

* * *

 Legend tells of a spirit that appears to folks in need of a cheer-up. It takes various forms, from that of a nerdy stranger to a kind message, a particularly cute critter, money on the ground, and so forth. Those who have encountered it reported feeling very believed in and found themselves wanting to share the love. Be warned that once the cryptid has its sights set on you, you're essentially doomed to a life of self-improvement and charity. You'll be planting a lot of trees, and there's nothing you can do about it.


End file.
